


lost song

by ThanksForListening



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, what happened in cairo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanksForListening/pseuds/ThanksForListening
Summary: what happened when Tony found Ziva in Cairo.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo & Talia "Tali" DiNozzo, Tali David & Ziva David, Ziva David & Talia "Tali" DiNozzo, Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	lost song

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas eve/happy hanukkah, can't believe i'm ending the decade as i started it -- emotional about tony and ziva!

Ziva wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten here. 

Much of the past few months had been a blur, moments scattered across a timeline that no longer felt linear. Past, present, future, they were all warped into one, dreams and memories making themselves nearly indistinguishable from one another. Reality was no longer as strong as it once was. 

She had clarity, enough to know exactly where she currently sat. The opera house had been beautiful. When she closed her eyes, she saw it the way it once was, the way it was supposed to be: walls covered in intricate paintings, red velvet seats, performers on stage whose voices echoed throughout the room as if they were their own entities, traveling to a destination far, far away. Even now, she looked at the wreckage, at the destruction and desolation that surrounded her, and she still saw the beauty that could only come from memory. The wind blew through the cracks in the ceiling, and she swore the breeze sung the lost songs of the theater’s past inhabitants.

She’d been back here once before, nearly three years ago, when she was running toward and from herself. Tali — her sister, not her daughter, a distinction she kept realizing she had to make — had loved coming here. She’d dragged Ziva and Ari with her, and even when their brother bailed and dismissed the theatrics of the opera, Ziva still came. It was not the performance she cared about, but the look on her sister’s face as she stared up at a stage she longed to be on, a show her heart was aching to be a part of. That alone was worth more to Ziva than any note that came from the singers‘ mouths. 

Why she was here now, though, she couldn’t be sure. She’d been moving, always moving, for months, desperate to not become a sitting duck to a threat she did not understand. She’d found herself in Cairo on accident, yet she felt as if she was being drawn to the theater, as if a string was tugging at her chest until she walked through the doors. She couldn’t tell you how long she’d spent sitting in the audience, staring at the stage that no longer existed. All she knew was that she was waiting. Waiting for what, she wasn’t sure — her mind and heart were no longer communicating, leaving her with feelings she couldn’t explain and desires she didn’t understand.

She heard the creek of the door an instant before it opened. She jumped out of her seat and had her gun drawn by the time she was upright. When she saw who entered, she nearly collapsed. She almost couldn’t trust her eyes; the scene was too similar to her wildest dreams for her not to suspect that her mind was playing tricks on her. It wasn’t until he smiled, giving her the smirk that even her subconscious had never recreated quite right, that she believed he was here.

“I knew it,” they both whispered in unison, and before either of them could say anything else she was running, and he was running, and they collided in the middle, an embrace that she’d longed for more than anything. They kissed, frantic, desperate, both of them breathing each other in like their survival depended on it. He was fire, he was air, he was life itself. She was drowning and he was her salvation. He put his arms around her, and everything fell into place. Time found its linearity, became a series of “Befores” and “Afters” all stringed together, and she wasn’t sure which one this moment was yet, but she knew it mattered, possibly more than anything that had come before it. 

As they broke away, she noticed the stroller resting just behind him. She bent down, reached for the girl who looked up at her with deep brown eyes, so much like her namesake. Tali smiled at her, and Ziva could see the way sleep tugged at her, yet she still reached back, sent her little arms forward, not putting them down until Ziva had her in her arms. 

When Tali leaned into her shoulder and placed Ziva’s necklace in her little hands, she almost lost it. When she looked down and noticed the Star of David dangling around her daughter’s neck, she almost lost it. But when she heard the word “Ima,” coming from her daughter’s mouth as she relaxed in her arms, Ziva burst into tears. She pulled her closer, one hand holding her up while the other held the back of her head, and she cried for the months she’d spent without her, for the weeks, months, years she knew she’d have to spend alone after today. Tony leaned forward, putting his arms around both of them, and as they stood there, surrounded by the ghosts of a beauty long gone, she swore she heard music playing, the echoes of a song he once gave her. She remembered the way the recording filled every inch of the bullpen all those years ago, and how the sound had taken her here, to the first place she’d heard it; now, when she closed her eyes, she was back in D.C., the music embracing her as tightly as he held her now.

She longed to hold on forever, but as she felt Tali drift off, she knew she had to let go. If she didn’t, if she kept her in her arms for another minute, she knew she might never put her back down. Placing her in the stroller next to Tony, something caught her eye. There, just below her knee, was a giant bandaid, cut into the shape of a heart. The edges were wobbly, the shape only vaguely defined, but it was unmistakable in its intent. She looked up at him, at the way he stared at her, and all she saw, all she felt, was love. 

She had a thousand things to say to him, a thousand questions she longed to ask; in the end, she settled for the important ones: “How did you find me?”

“I know you, Ziva.”

“Why would you even look for me? After I — after all I’ve done?”

He shrugged, and for a minute she saw him as she did years ago, tied to a chair across from her, so many emotions in his eyes that she couldn’t identify a single one. “Couldn’t live without you. You know that.”

“I’m sorry,” the words spilled out of her like a tidal wave crashing onto shore, chaotic and unstoppable and inevitable. “I’m sorry Tony, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. I should have told you, I should have come to you, I never should have—“

“Ziva.” With one word, he stopped her. His voice echoed across the hall, the sound sweeter than any song, any symphony, anything that had ever been played in this room before. She heard the future in his voice, and she craved it more than anything. 

“Tony.” His name on her lips was like an exhale, a release of the breath she had spent years holding. “I owe you so much. Much more than I can ever give.”

“You could start with an explanation.”

She sighed, tried to get rid of the tension in her shoulders and the fear in her heart. “What do you want to know first?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why now? Why me? Why didn’t you tell me that— that you were—“

“I—“ she started, and she knew, she _knew_ , these questions would come, had known the minute she’d taken a test in Israel and forced herself to stay that she’d be forced to answer them one day. She knew, and she still wasn’t prepared. “I wish I had a good excuse,” she finally told him. “I wish I had a reason, something that made sense, something that did not make me a coward.”

“You are _not_ a coward.”

She shook her head. “I am, in so many ways I am. I’m a coward for sending you away. I’m a coward for running in the first place. And I’m a coward for not coming home when I should have.”

“But—“

“I will never, _never_ , be able to apologize enough to make up for what I took from you, Tony. But I can try. And I can apologize for what I need to do now.”

“Now? Ziva, what are you—“

“There’s a reason the world must believe I am dead, Tony. And for the same reason, I need you to disappear. With her.”

“No, Ziva, just tell me — we can go to Gibbs, we can—“

“We can’t.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she willed the tears in her eyes to stay where they were. “I can’t — I _won’t_ risk her life. I won’t risk yours.”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m willing to risk, Ziva.”

“She needs you, Tony. More than I do right now.”

“But we—“

“No!” She hated herself for yelling, but with every sentence he spoke she could feel her resolve crumbling, her heart yearning with every beat: _go home, go home, go home_. “Nobody knows,” she whispered, her voice too soft to echo, even here. “Nobody knows she exists. That she’s mine. I need you to keep it that way.”

“Ziva, if you just tell me what’s going on, I can help you. I can protect you. We can handle it together. As partners.”

“We can’t,” she cried. “You have to be her partner now. You have to protect Tali. That’s how you protect me.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t accept that, Ziva. I can’t leave you to fight whatever this is on your own.”

“You must.”

“But—“

“If you don’t, she’ll be alone.” She watched as he looked down at her child — _their_ child — who slept soundly next to them. “She can’t lose us both, Tony.”

“Let me help you, and she won’t lose anyone.”

“Do you think I want this?” She didn’t mean to sound angry, but the words came out without her permission, months of suppression finally given a voice. “Do you think I would choose this? This life? Do you know the cost of giving up everything you have? Everything you want? Everything you love? It’s a burden I would not wish on anybody. And yet, it is a burden I must carry, because if I don’t...if I run off with you, come back to you...if the people after me knew the extent of my love for you—“

“Please, Ziva.” His eyes were watering, and she could feel the tears streaming down her own cheeks. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.” She took a breath, willed her voice to reflect more strength than she felt, before she continued. “I never should have left, never should have hid her from you, but if that means that now this—this person who’s after me doesn’t know what you mean to me? If that means that you and her — that my _family_ — will be safe?”

“We aren’t a family without you. If you aren’t safe, neither are we.”

“Tony—“

“No, Ziva! You don’t get to do this again!” She knew he’d be angry, knew he was entitled to feel much more than anger, but she still felt something shatter inside her as he raised his voice. “You don’t get to leave me. You don’t get to decide that your life is worth less than the people who love you. How many times have we faced impossible situations and gotten out of it? You think I’m afraid of whoever this new threat is? Whatever it is, we can face them _together_.”

“It’s too dangerous.“

“ _Nothing_ is too dangerous. Not for you.”

“This isn’t Somalia, Tony! You can’t go on a suicide mission to save me! You shouldn’t even be here right now!”

“And why not? Why do you get to decide what I’m willing to do to keep you safe?”

“Because you have someone else you need to live for now!” They both looked down at the same time. How Tali still slept, she didn’t know, but Ziva was grateful that she wouldn’t witness this moment, even if she would likely come to forget it. “Everything you do, everything I do, it has to be for her. It has to. That’s why you can’t stay, why I can’t go.”

For a moment they both stood there, staring at their daughter. Ziva thought about the insanity of the path that led them here. How a year before Tali was born, they were nothing more than partners. Friends. She’d known for a while how deeply she cared for him, and after Somalia, she suspected that he might feel the same, but so much kept happening, and she’d wasted years thinking it was easier to let things stay the same. Thinking back, she cursed her own hesitation, her own reluctance. Where might she be now if she’d had the bravery to act on the feelings she’d felt for years? Where might they be if he hadn’t waited until she was losing herself, on a path she wouldn’t recognize as self destruction until it was too late, to admit his own feelings? 

“It isn’t fair,” he said softly, and she knew he’d racked his brain for the magical solution that didn’t exist. 

“I know.”

“After everything we—“ he got choked up on the words, and she prayed he didn’t start crying, because if he did, she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to let him walk away. “It isn’t fair.”

“I wish, more than anything, that it could be different. That _we_ could…” she searched for the words that never came. It was a feeling she desired, more than anything else. She wanted the feeling of holding her daughter in her arms, wanted to feel Tony’s hand in hers, wanted to know that wherever she went, they were always close behind. She wanted to go home, and it wasn’t until this moment that she understood what that meant, that it wasn’t a place she needed to find but a person.

“I won’t give up on you, Ziva.” He took her hands, a sense of urgency behind his actions. “I need you to not give up on me—on us.”

“Tony, I don’t know how long it’ll take until—“

“I don’t care. I would wait a lifetime for you. I just need you to fight for this. Fight as hard as you can.”

If she were braver, she would tell him to move on, to not spend years waiting for her when the odds were high that she’d meet her end before she eliminated the threat against her. Instead, she nodded, squeezed his hands and felt him squeeze back. They stood there for a moment, and she’d have closed her eyes if she wasn’t too busy memorizing every detail of his face. 

“You shouldn’t stay here,” she whispered eventually. “It’s not safe.”

“Ziva—“

“Please, Tony. I’m not...if you stay much longer, I won’t be strong enough to send you away. You have to leave.”

“Sing to me,” he said, looking up at the theater around them. There was a hint of desperation in his voice but she ignored it. “Please. Before I go. Sing to me.”

A million protests died on her lips when she saw the way he looked at her. Like she hung the stars in the sky. Like nothing else in the world existed. Like she might disappear if he looked away.

She stared at the crumbling architecture around her. There was a beauty in its destruction. Its frame was exposed, open for everybody to see exactly how it stayed standing. The vulnerability of it all soothed her, even though it shouldn’t. Anyone who walked in could see exactly how the structure was supported, could figure out just how easy it would be to send it crumbling to the ground. Just standing inside felt dangerous. Their solitude made her realize, however, the secret to the building’s persistence; if nobody ever came inside to look, they would never find out how close it was to falling apart. 

She closed her eyes and began to sing. Her voice was shaky, out of practice, and nothing compared to the songs that should be sung in a venue such as this one. But her voice still echoed, floated around them, danced through the seats and beams and filled the space as if it was effortless, as if the sound alone could heal the decade of wounds and mistakes and history that sat between them. She sang, and she sang, and she sang, and it wasn’t enough, but it was something. 

When she finished, the last note lingering as it dissolved into the air around them, she kept her eyes closed. She just needed a minute, sixty more seconds where she could imagine that her life was different than it was. Opening her eyes meant saying goodbye, and even though she was the one who was pushing him away, she knew she would never be ready to see him go. To see _them_ go. 

She felt his hand on her face. She felt him wipe away a tear from her cheek. She didn’t know when she’d started crying again. Maybe she’d never stopped. 

“Ziva,” He said, his voice soft and lovely and full of more than just her name. “Ziva,” He said, but she heard _don’t go_ and she heard _take me with you_ and she heard _I love you_ and she heard more than she could handle so she opened her eyes and kissed him. And maybe it would be the last time, and the thought of that was so horrible and wrong and sent her to the edge of the panic she’d become familiar with the past few months, so she made it everything. She put everything she could into this one kiss, every moment she’d spent over the past decade wanting to do what she did now, and tried to tell him without words more that she could in any other language. She prayed with everything she had that he heard her. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you more than I could ever tell you,” she responded, and she longed to kiss him again, but her resolve was weak, and she didn’t trust herself to break away a second time. 

“Call me.” His voice was frantic again, as if he could sense the thoughts running through her head, could feel the time they had left quickly slipping away. “When it’s safe, or if we have to go deep underground, or any time you possibly can. Use a secure network, hell, use a carrier pigeon for all I care. Just don’t shut us out completely. Please. And when it’s all over: call me. Come home.”

“Tony—“

“Come find us, Ziva. We’ll be waiting.”

She let another chance to tell him to move on pass her by as she nodded. She leaned down, kissed Tali on the forehead, and she could feel her entire body shaking but she ignored it as she looked back up at Tony. “If — in case this is— if I don’t make it back—“

“No.” He shook his head, didn’t let the words come out of her mouth. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You and I both know that—“

“Don’t even say it.” He reached for her again, and she thought that nothing in the world felt as good as her hand in his. “Think about what we’re going to do when this is all over.”

She sighed. “Tony, I—“

“We’re going to go to Paris. The three of us. We’ll stay as long as you want to. Maybe we’ll never leave.”

“Tony.”

“And we’ll spend Christmas and Hanukkah in D.C. We’ll see Gibbs and McGee and Palmer. My father will be there, spoiling Tali rotten. Ducky will put her to sleep with stories we’ve heard a thousand times. Abby will dress her up in something ridiculous, and we’ll pretend to like it until we get back in the car and laugh about it the entire drive home.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Just — promise me right now that when this is all over, we’ll be together again. Promise me we’ll go to Paris.”

“I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.”

“Then don’t. Finish this, and come home.”

“I—“ she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. Looking into his eyes, she could see the image he painted for her clearly, the life that waited for her at the end of this journey, and even though she knew it was a bad idea, she kept her eyes on his and whispered, “I promise.” 

He sighed in relief, the gesture only making it harder for her to think about the reality of her situation. He reached for her again, kissed the top of her forehead before pulling her into his arms. “Paris,” he whispered. “Every time you feel like you’re alone, remember we’re here. Your family. Waiting for you. Remember Paris.”

She almost couldn’t watch him walk away. Her heart begged him not to leave, pounding loud and fast in her chest. She could barely breathe as he made it to the door, turned back for one last look at her. She could see his lips moving, but she couldn’t make out his parting words. 

In an instant, he was gone, _they_ were gone, and whatever strength had kept her standing left with them. She crumbled to the floor, let out the sobs she’d buried in her chest, listened as her cries echoed around her. She felt as if someone had cut a hole in her, ripped the air out of her lungs and the heart from her chest, left her a shell of the person she once was. 

She cried until she had nothing left in her. She cried until her voice went out, until the only thing she heard was the sound of her breathing, heavy and loud and desperate. Sitting on the floor of the empty theater, she thought about what he said. She closed her eyes, let herself imagine the life she promised they’d have. She felt as if she could feel the breeze as they drove down the city streets, could taste the pastries and desserts they’d eat from the bakeries that covered every corner. She could hear Tali babbling at her, could hear Tony’s mangled attempts at speaking French. With her eyes closed, she could hear the songs people would sing, could hear the one she’d sung earlier, echoing not in an empty theater but in a place of their own. 

Even in her own mind, she felt guilty for dreaming about it, for letting herself believe that she might actually have a chance at the life Tony drew out for her. She thought about his face when he first saw her, his face when she made her promise, his face right before he left. He had so much hope. She had none, not in herself or in the universe that had shown again and again how little it cared for her. She had no trust, no faith, not in anything but him. She wondered if that could be enough. 

She opened her eyes. She hated the doubt she heard in her own voice, in her own thoughts. She hated being alone. She hated that this was her life, that she’d spent so much time suffering and had lost so many people. She hated that she’d had to let Tony walk away again, that she’d had to give Tali up again, that she had to fight if she wanted to finally go home. But for the first time, she used that hate, transformed it into motivation. She pulled herself up from the ground. She wouldn’t wallow, wouldn’t spend her time crying when she could be ending this. If what he said was true, if he would truly wait for her, she had to try. The thought of disappointing him, of truly never seeing him or Tali again, was more terrifying than anything she’d ever faced, more terrifying than whoever wanted her dead. They were nothing compared to that fear, and she’d be damned if she let anyone take her away from her family. 

When she reached the door, she turned back. Staring at the empty theater, she swore she could see her sister, could see the look of anticipation she always gave Ziva right before the show started. Her sister reached out her hand, and Ziva knew it would be so easy to take it, to give in, to go away. This room, her life, was full of ghosts, all of them waiting for her. She shook her head. She refused to join them. Not yet. She walked out of the theater, leaving it’s song for somebody else, each footstep echoing the word that would get her through this, the word that would take her home: _Paris. Paris. Paris_.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are my favorite thing so if u wanna send those my way i'd love you forever. also come find me on tumblr if u want @thanks--for--listening. 
> 
> also if we don't get an on-screen tiva reunion in 2020 i'll cry


End file.
